Give Color To The Spies
by TheStrangeFreakyMentalWriter
Summary: The color shades of white to black, each show of a side of some people we never thought we would ever hear. From the slient words of three awesome spies. Read and Review.
1. White

Blank and unknowing what could really be out there. I am known as life. A pure out a look on things you can't even fathom. Some would never think of me as a one of best.

For this color that I have cast upon this being of my own. Have too much that can be a deadly color. I will show one day to my foe that I am a threat. Not a laughing matter that he can just brush off his shoulders.

I will be a sickness that can't be treated.

An empty thought that shall never have words to fill with useless ideas.

"You think that I would think little of you, White?"

"No never, then I would think the same as to you."

"Fine mixture of love and hate in those words of your's."

"Only for you, Black, only for you." I tell him with a smile, while holding a remote control to the rocket he was tied to. "Bye for now?"

"I would only think so . . . "

I watch the rocket fly off into the sky, about ready to take a chunk of the moon when it hits. Right when that boom of the rocket goes off and a bite of the moon is missing. I know have done well.

Well, until I hear a hissing sound, turning to face a firework set about to go off not from me. And sadly it was pointed my way of stand, on which I find myself stuck from quick dry cement.

"Damn you, Black. You got the last say this time."

Those fireworks might have splattered me to a puddle of goo, but lucky, white doesn't leave a bad of stain as black does.

Ha-ha.


	2. Snow

I come and go as I please. For I don't know what my little lackeys could be up to. For one is clan in black and the other in white. Colors of yin and yang. Symboling balance.

Far from the truth. Just like the seasons. You can only have something for a short time.

A reason why I am here, for a rare moment of time. Like unknowing snow falling from the sky. You never know when I will be coming. Warnings? Yes. But for it to happen? Again, you will never know.

For I am Madam Gray, the lovely little tart that pulls the heart strings of White and Black. As to the same as snow to young foolish children who have no idea of how dangerous snow can really be.

"My, my, how you two never seem to play well together."

Looking at the bloodily remains before myself. Reaching for my cell, time to call the clean up crew. Again.

"Leaving me to cover the tracks of your past. For shame on you."

Kicking an arm clan in black away from me. Not wanting to dirty my boots any more then they already were.

Another thing to add what snow is, it can get soil, but over time. More fleeting flakes will cover the foul mess once more. As if it was never there.

That is how I, Madam Gray, lives among these fiascos. Hem-hem.


	3. White Smoke

Many could find me gagging oneself, something choking the lungs and numbing the brain. Blinding the eyes of what's before thy person. With only salty tears given you a blurry vision in front of you. Reaching out for something, that be good or not.

A poetic I'm not.

Deadly?

Yes?

No?

White seems to think so and wishes me dead.

But smoke, white smoke, such as I . . . once it's in the air, bits can be blowed away, but once in the air, forever it will be.

Bomb me, I'll be back and bury you alive.

Snap me, break me, hang me.

Little harm you'll bring on me, White. Madam Gray can't save you nor I for the trouble we bring on each other.

I'm onto you, White. Your rep as a spy is number.

Light that fuse and smoke will be there.

With rope, ready to bring pain to you, as you would do to me.

Fear me, White, for Black Spy is coming to get you. And make your last day, forever lastly, in your pea steam, you call a brain.

Until then, my friend.

"You're more rough than ever, Black."

"Practice, just practice." Holding the hatched over the hogtied paler one's neck.

"Make it quick."

"Plan on it."


	4. Old Lace

Weak and forgotten? How little is known of who is called White Spy.

"Off your game than ever, Black."

The body flitches when the blade snakes over the face and down toward dark clothes.

White smirks at the pain Black can't seem to hide.

"Son of a . . . " Black hissed, before feeling the knife travel deeper into his skin.

"Give in?"

Wetness of red spit hit White's face, who with a dull sense of what happen, wiped it away.

"I see." Stating, while cleaning his hand with Black's jacket.

Eyes meet in hatred.

Moving fast, grabbed the half-dead spy and dragged him over to the open window of the apartment complex. Black's back hanged out, with only his feet as anchors, while trying to move his arms, but they felt heavy as ashlar.

"Still don't want to end it here?"

"Never."

Holding Black with one arm and the other held the knife under Black's chin.

"I'll be kind than and give you some last words."

"Would be a waste of them on someone who's out-of-place as _lace_." Ending his words, with the blade jab up in jaw and falls out of the window.

White looks out down, having cold air greet him, a shy laugh leaves his mouth. As uneasy the job could be, never once does White get bored with it.

"Out of place as lace? Hmm . . . " He cogitated, while closing the window shut with the drapes drawn. "Never thought he steep that low. To each is own."


	5. Linen

"Oh, do those boys ever learn?" A voice called out, while the body was lax against a stony wall of a building.

Paseo out of the shadows and onto the streets.

Glancing to the sides, finding the area quite and lacking of people.

The eyes land on the building the person was relaxing on, having a smile of what the title said. "I'll have to try a plate after this."

Getting back track and head to where the person saw the body felled.

"M-madam G-g-gray?" A gasped could be heard, right when said person lightly kick the fallen spy.

"Good Nox, Black, trying to fly like those superheros, again?"

"S-s-smugness never suits t-t-that f-f-fine face of y-yours."

"Don't fret. Help is coming." Crouching down, able to face each other better. "He did a number on you." Reaching out for the blade that was still hanging within his jaw. "May I."

"Be i-in-insulted if y-y-you didn't."

Without blinking, pulled it out, with a good pint of blood running down the wound.

She than clean the blade, placing it in his hand. This didn't go unnoticed to the bleeding spy.

"Helps not coming, is it? You taking your faux linen ways again?"

"Oh it is. No doubt." While her eyes looked up where White lived. "What about him?"

"I'll get him next." Finally closing his eyes to rest.

Around that, sirens could be heard not far from them.

"Until next time, Black, I got a plate of pasta with my name on it." And passed his body, with again light kick to his torso.


	6. Antique White

Eyes full on the moving target, even the pace of a snail, the follower stayed right behind. Quiet and planing for this one's fate.

Whatever steps this person made, he would as well.

An alleyway or not.

"Sloppy move, Black." The words just poured out his mouth, with sounds of a gun cocking at the end. "Even in an outfit like that."

The other said nothing at first.

"Come on, say something, an antique like has to have something to say."

Again, no response happens.

"Have I finally got you scared of this little game of ours?"

Black just gave a lump-sided smile and teased himself, out of spite, by pushing his middle finger into the gun hole.

"Oh, I am _so_ scared." Neglecting White's other words.

The now tog-out in white clothes spy, struck a fist too other. Knocking the other on his ass, using his time to grab the gun.

Having the tables turn.

"Now, what were you saying?" Inching to fire without a second thought.

"Nothing." White only than copy Black's smile.

Which made him widen his eyes, to find out, that they we're nothing but blanks. Not even bothering to shot the gun, that smile gave it away.

"Clever, never thought you would replay an old trick like this."

"Live and learn."

"Yes . . . " Black looked up out of anger, but it soon faded. "Live and learn." Aiming the gun upward, firing with no worry, the silencer would do its part. "To be more open for new ideas." And looked at back at White.

White was seeing that, laughing look, that glazed over Black's eyes for every win. Finally looking up, seeing a rusty ladder rammed down from the fire-escape. An end of ladder impaled his eye, the other his left hand.

"That's for ruining my chance of every tasting food the same way." Black sneered in mock anger, tossing the not-so-useless gun in a trash can, and pulled out a knife from his _borrow_ white jacket. "Oh, and I think you'd drop this."

The knife soon struck White's kneecap, who could have a gurgle sounding screams. While trying to push the ladder off of him.

"No, White, keep it on, looks good on you." Black said in sarcastic joy, while turning around, to leave him, waiting long enough to yell for help of a body near death.

People flooded to see if his words were true, others calling the cops, others just went on their day.

Black loved it, how the _angelical_ side was very much the same as the _achromatic_ side.

But than remember something White said and couldn't help but feel gitty about it.

"Antique?" He tried not to laugh, walking along the sidewalks of the lights. "Funny, very funny, yet, very lacking in some ways."


	7. Platinum

White sat in his chair, facing the fire-place, one hand on his eyepatch cover most of the right side of his face, while the other held a cold small glass of brandy.

The crackle of the burning wood calmed him, but little, with the thoughts of how Black got the best of him.

"In your self-pity, again, White?" A familiar voice called by his sudden wide open window.

"Hello, Gray." Saying with a smile, holding up his glass. "Care for a glass?"

"So that we can repeat the last time that happen? Try again later." Pulling herself in, once having her grappling hook unhitched and back in her hands.

"I see, Black already got to you. No sloppy seconds for me than." Gloominess drained his words, but he soon covered it with the amber color water in his glass.

"Why is that the only reason that comes out of your mouth." Rolling her eyes, pulling hair strands behind her ear in disbelief of his simple mind. "Please move on, it only happen once and only once. When we however, need to set date times and what not." Leaning against the fire-place, in White's sight. "I see he got the last laugh this time?"

"Far from it, my dear."

"What did you do?"

"When he's out of the hospital, he'll be looking for a new place."

"Heartless, you are."

White finally rose from his seat and walked to Gray. Having both hands trapping her from leaving his reach, the glass tink when lightly hitting the mantel.

"Only to him." The drunkenness weak, but there, as he slowly lower himself at eye view to her. "Never to you, love." And went to kiss her, but soon hit the stoney mantel. "You have gotten faster."

Gray fix her clothes from being closed in. "Something Black taught me."

"Please don't speak of him, not now." He groaned, walking back to his seat. "I finally had a clear mind before you'd said that."

"Forgive me, I thought when I found this, you wouldn't have minded." Showing a wooden box, shut tight with a lock in need of a key. "Oh, those memeoires we all once shared. You two were like peas in need of pod."

"Get rid of that thing. I never want to see that thing again." Drowning the rest of his shot in a huff, than getting a refill from the kitchen. "You sure you don't want a glass?"

"Pass, White."

"Fine. More for me than."

"They were from him, right?"

"Gray . . . " A warning tone was heard, but he knew she wouldn't take notice of it.

"You would not take any of kind but this, _platinum gems_, you called them, and I took you for a silver, forgive me." Placing the box on top of the mantel. "If you hated him so much, why not give those back . . . or pawn them?"

He didn't answer when he left the kitchen, glass full, along with a new bottle in the other hand, not wanting to make another trip like that again.

"A child mistake of not letting them go." Sighing with happiness to be back in his chair.

"And an adult mistake for thinking it was just a child stage." She ended with a smirk.

White took a light sip this time. "Yet this is how we learn and live on. Get of rid of them, I don't care what you do with them. I just want them gone . . . How the hell did you even find them?"

"Your whip a little slow there, White. Also, you should find a bank more trusting."

"Forever noted." He stated, while rubbing his patch. "Care to spend the night? I got your be . . . room waiting for you."

"Can't, work. Lots of it." Heading back to the window, not forgetting to grab the box. "Wednesday good for you?"

"Snog movie and a _very_ late dinner?"

"Is there any other kind?"

"Til than, White."

He lifted his glass as a goodbye and watch her from the same window, as a certain other person did not even a month ago did.

"_Platinum gems_?" He questioned to himself, taking a thoughtful drink, before looking at the fire once more. "A silly child I really was, ha!" Throwing the rest in the fire, putting it out and went to bed.


	8. Light Gray

She saw, even from a bland view, this world was mad in shades of black and white. With so little of gray, where it can one way or no way. Where did those times go?

"Oh, where did they go indeed?" Little Miss. Gray asked to herself, standing out on the docks on Dark Territory, but with the colors of mixtures of white and black, there was nothing no one could do. "Curse those dumb borders and rules."

Yet, her mind wasn't worry about if death would greet her or not, more as to the box, that White gave up on from his past life.

Looking down at the ice-cold, sliver tinted, blood stopping, water. Thinking in pure wonder.

"Maybe I should give back? No, what if he doesn't want it. And worst what if the other changes his mind and thinks Black took it from me."

Not knowing she was pacing, was a sign, of lost minded of choosing, for maybe the first time for her.

"Strange finding you here."

Gray stop her pacing and seeing Black, relaxing near a tool shed in boredom, a gun spinning in his hand. The other holding a cigaret to his mouth. Bring the gun, with it pointing at him, and pulled the trigger.

"Black!"

A flame spark from the barrel, lighting his cigaret, where behind it was a jokey smile of laughter. "Got you." Saying after puffing out some smoke.

Having the box in her hands, made the lacking choice to cross her arms in disappointment. "And as you can see, I am not jolly of happiness as you are, Black."

"You okay? You look a little gray in face." Choosing to change the subject, slipping the gun lighter in his pocket, strolling up to the female spy. "And as I said before, strange to find you here."

"Thought I should come check on you."

"Nice lie, very sweet, I could taste the berries of sugar dance off your lips."

"I have gotten better, thanks for your head throbbing flirts."

"Now the truth please, I got things to do, and . . ." Stopping short, when finally seeing the box.

"This is for you, scatter-brains." Ending with an over due smile, that could be almost be seen as creepy. "From Whi . . . you know who."

"He finally gave it up." Reaching for it, with hints of sadness in his eyes. "What took him?" Choosing a smile to end his words.

Gray only shrug to Black's words. "Who knows. He was very willing."

"Now I'm scared." A joking tone was heard.

"Don't be." Gray said, than added. "Maybe he's got some light gray in his heart still."

"That ship sailed a long time ago, girly, don't keep thinking that some day, or any day, that he would change."

"Then why does your voice have the heavy sound of hope roping your words."

"Goodbye, Gray, leave before the police show up. You know how they feel about your kind."

"Yes, yes, another chat for another time." Leaning in to give a light kiss.

"Careful, or your boyfriend will get the wrong idea." Warning, but happy to have that kiss all the same.

"Oh, please nothing happen, and that pride ego of yours, did this."

"Can you blame it." Letting his eyes take every inch of her. "But to me, you're not my type, but he'll never know that."

She nodded, side stepping him, taking her leave. "Take care."

"You as well, princess."

Her footing stop short, turning to face Black, ready to give him a talking-to, only to find him gone. "Damn brat." Gray laughed, once again taking her leave and going home for night.


	9. Gainsboro

Once seeing Gray far off from eye line, Black relaxes on the ending of a crate lifter. Having the box lay on his lap, while getting another cigaret, seeing that the one before slipped from his grasp when Gray handed the box to him.

Taking in a swallow smoke before blowing out, having a long chance to calm down. But the perceiving weight of the box on his lap. Black nodded his head side to side, trying to raddle a thought of what to do now.

Again though, gladly took another puff.

He ended up looking up to the mashed sky, somehow, reminded him of how a color-blind classmate of his in grade school, saw paintings at a school trip one time.

"Very Gainsboro, I get it now." Saying out loud to himself along with a sad smile.

Finally choosing to aspect the box, before opening it, finished his cigaret in a few puffs. Throwing the bud into the water below him.

With the key at home, Black took out a switch-blade, hidden in his boot and started to pick the lock. When his ears heard the sound of a snap and click, slipping the blade away, and slowly starting to open it.

A boxing glove pops out, sending Black off the lifter, dives bombed into the water. With a tinier splash coming from the box right afterwards.

Little x's appeared on his eyes, but shook them off from his sudden shock. Seeing bubbles break through the water, knowing the box was sinking. Only for Black to think, that was for the best.

Upon catching his reflection and seeing an imprint on his forehead.

**_Ha-ha_**

"You'll get yours!" Shouting out as he swam back to shore, wringing enough water off, and stomped back home, unknowing what other surprise sneak White left for him.


	10. Silver

When growing up and earning things, by all means not adding growing knowledge to this, but such as prizes and trophies. And one of those, stood out more with a stronger meaning. Gold. A sign of first place. For that person to be on top, higher than all others. Yet, anything lower than that, that person, be yourself or any other, means nothing.

This is a notation pointing to a second stage of winning. The silver. Number two place of winners. A name that only means; the first loser before many follow after it.

"And yet, how is that. A person like you, always getting the one better than me?" White asked out loud to an old photo of his past, with eyes of hated and gritted teeth that held back a full-out rage. "How? I just don't understand. I was older than you. Smarter than you. Faster than you . . ." He took a breath to calm himself, before letting out more words. " . . . B-but somehow, you'd always had the upper hand on me."

Without thinking, rose a hand and slammed the frame down. Not missing the sound of glass breaking from the impact. Or the feeling of skin falling apart when getting cut from a pop-out shard of glass.

As he brought his cut into view, seeing a silver of blood slide down his finger into his open palm. When a puddle size of dime form in his hand, White took grip of it. Feeling the blood cool and starting to harden in his grasp.

His body shook with untold emotions.

"Enjoy holding the gold for now, Black, your time is running out."


	11. Dark Gray

It's dark with lights, cold mixing with warmth, lonely with company, endless yet small, scary but also friendly.

That's what this town feels like. One thing yet covering another feeling.

A silky noose.

Hugging a corpse.

Jumping on a bed of nails crusted in rust.

Willing to drink poison from the bottle.

Telling white lies.

Hiding in your grave from others to find you.

Using Black outs to be notice.

That is how that color is being remember in eyes who are not bright but also gloomy of the truth.

"What a hated color you are." The voice poured the words out, not even knowing that they left.

Looking back up into the sky, knowing that was the source of the hated. Clouds painted in that alienated vividness of what is called Dark Gray. Not paying mind to rain falling down upon the person, the town, and those who lived in it.

Some would be seen rushing about not to get too wet, when a few take their time. Stepping in puddles in dismay or joy.

But some how, this one person felt in the middle of it. Choosing not to walk around and find ways out the rain, while the face showed it didn't the rain being around and kept walking.

Without a care and thinking soon to hail down a cab, but not just yet. In another hour or so, maybe. But not yet.

For that is how Dark Gray is.


	12. Gray

"I wonder to think, only this once, is she right?" Black voiced out, splashing cool water at his face from the bathroom sink.

Hoping that the water, will obviate, of every thought that stimulated through his mind. How little did this method really work.

"He would never." He spatted, grabbing a bath-towel from a near rack, drying his face with a hiss. "Damn." His fingers bumped into his black eye.

In his mind, thinking of ways to get back at the bastard, for not only the bruised eye, but for his apartment as well. Having no choice to crash at his office for the time being.

Happy on the inside no one was here to see this. His weak self.

The very thought of it, makes Black wring the towel too almost dryness and it slap down on the sink.

In a huff, leave the restroom near the locker area and goes to his desk. For some thinking, he never thought he was going to do.

"Man, I hate this, makes my brain hurt." Groaning out as he rubs his temple to ease the pain.

What felt like hours was only minutes as he took a chance to look at his clock resting by his lamp, which the blindness only added to the headache.

Out of spite, open one of the draws of the desk. Where a picture rested. Picking up and have it better lighting, blowing a light film of dust off from it. And just stared at it. Rubbing his noise when he felt some dust land on it.

But his beady eyes never left the picture.

Good old days, one would say of the memories that a photo held, yet left a bitter taste in one's mouth.

Having no choice to grab his lighter and have it under the painful photograph of a gray moment, he plans to never repeat. Yet the hand holding the objects shake, in a way telling or ordering, not for Black to do it.

An image of a gray . . . was it really all that bad?

"I don't really know how to answer that . . ."


	13. Dim Gray

"A little sloppy, Black. Even for you."

"Not much in a fighting mood."

"You trying to make me pity you?"

Black made a face of grossness. "No thanks."

"So how should we end this _plot_ to end, seeing that you couldn't do so."

Black just smiles and shrugged with carelessness. "You got me, _brother_."

"That I do." Holding up a remote that was hidden in his jacket.

"How?" Black shouted in confusion, trying to see his own pockets, tugging at the ropes as doing so, indeed finding it was his. "Oh damn you White. You ever heard stealing is wrong." ending with a smirk, not wanting to show his anger.

"Says the one who does it countless times." White glances at the remote once more. "Black, care to say any last words?"

"Love the new look. Dim. Like your brain."

"Enjoy the large, vast, outer space while you can." White sneered as he pressed the button to the large rocket, right when he was far enough to savor the show.

Ready to leave once he saw the rocket blasting off into the dark sky, wishing it head a little to the left, smashing into the moon. But, alas, never did that happen.

Brushing off the dust that landed on his dim gray jacket. Does this have to happen when getting something new and keep it clean?

"If anyone has a mass matter that is a dim shade of gray, Black, my dear fiend, that would be you." About to leave when seeing something on the ground, bending down to pick it up, missing the sting under it.

A loud creaking sound came above.

"I'm getting slow in my age . . . "

A platform of metal beams falls upon him, crushing him. Yet his hand never loosens the picture that cause Black's enshrouded plan.


	14. Dark Slate Gray

The room large and crowded. Air polluted with sess and froth. Muffle music played through the board, even with a herd of people drowning it out.

"You're busy this night." The words soberly slurred out, while holding up a shot-glass for a refill.

"You didn't hear?" The bar keeper asked, placing down his rag, pulling out a bottle of brandy to fill her glass. "Those Flannels finally got a lead against the Bruises." Stopping when the glass was full and set the bottle down, re-grabbing to wipe the bar table. "Having full range to cross over with no problem."

"How that happen?"

"That news I haven't heard, yet."

"From all the fun they're having, the slate must be glad to have clean. For once."

"You know that saying."

"Clean slates, don't come a dime a dozen." Ending with a sigh before taking a sip of her drink. "Even able to rid an Achromatic Stag, doesn't mean anything."

"And what does a little Brumous fille, like you, say otherwise?" Questioning with a smirk.

"Bar Keep!"

"Be right back, I hope to hear an answer." And leaves with one finally smile.

By the time he came back, the young woman was gone. The drinks paid, a nice tip, and a note. Gladly taking it, glum seeing the woman gone, but she leaves something. Opening the note once placing the money away.

A thin brow from the large guy rose out of signified.

_A win like this is a clean slate, but this person would stain it. Dark like him. The Slates empty, waiting to fill again. Leaving only Gray steaks behind. A Dark Slate Gray. It means of a lingering moment should not be easily forgotten. For those problems will be back._

"Bar Keep!"

"Yeah-yeah, coming."


	15. Black

The mind goes blank. Words stand still, body dead to the world. Yet the eyes are cold, hurt, vast, and seeking the demise of an over due soul.

Fill in nothing but darkness, casting a large shadow over tamer colors. Sending chills down bones to numbness.

Oh how sweet will that revenge. When Black will cover over white, showing that it's not all that great. Oh how that will come and at full forth.

_"Sweet oh sweet, Black revenge will taste."_ Echoing words travel through his mind, waiting calm and quiet for those words to be true.

Ha-ha, the little spy has yet to see what his darker counterpart can do.

The End.


End file.
